The Wastes Of Mississippi
by Ragnaar RedBeard
Summary: It's the year 2302. The Governor of Mississippi has been assassinated and political tension is on the up-rise. Two factions are warring for the position. A secluded veteran of the battle of Hoover Dam is being tried for treason. Only he can stop the war and restore Mississippi to it's former glory. Rated T for violence, language and mature themes.


**The Wastes Of Mississippi**

Chapter One: Prologue

The camp was somewhat beautiful at night. The moonlight reflected off the beautifully dangerous water. The sound of silence reverbed amongst the Mercenary tents. My weapon was loaded, I was ready. I took in a deep breath and eased my feet gently forwards in an attempt not to attract attention. On the off chance somebody heard me, spotting me would be somewhat... difficult amidst the dark of night. Sneaking past the snoring tents felt tense and relatively exhilarating. Then I heard something... Coming to a sudden halt, I edged towards the corner of a nearby tent.

''I think it's crazy...'' Murmured a gruff undertoned voice.

Another voice soon followed, with a somewhat elderly and elegant tone. '''Much as I admire your opinions, I don't believe ya'll have any say in your Governor's decisions''.

Silence filled the air. The man made his point, there appeared to be no-point in arguing. He was obviously in a position to give orders... But that wouldn't stop me achieving my goal. I peered around the corner, he was there. The elderly gentleman looked weak. He was preventing access to the Governor's tent... My only access point.  
Surely a man that old was not a guard?

''Who do we have here then...'' I whispered under my breath.

I quickly lifted my Pip-Boy to my face. Three day's reconnaissance... Three day's worth of notes, and there was nothing about this guy.

''Oh well'' I muttered silently.

I lifted a small knife from my pocket. He was an old man... Surely couldn't pose a threat? I scoured around the tent-side looking for a small object to draw his attention to. Under a dusty rag lay a small metallic shard. This is where those years of baseball in the Vault came in handy. I threw the shard towards one of the Governor's tents' metal support beams. A perfect shot. The sound rippled through the air, not enough to alert anyone else, but certainly enough to alert the ''guard''.

His head jolted towards the sound... My time to strike. I slowly creeped out from behind the tent, readying my blade. The guard turned his back away from me, as though he was presenting a target of which to strike at. Lunging forth with the knife, I managed to subdue the guard and began dragging him toward my hiding spot. The rag provided an excellent place to hide the body. Retrieving the knife from the body, I continued forth towards the Governor's tent. To me there was always something eerily satisfying about taking a life, it was more than enough to fuel my sociopathic desires and allow me to thrive. People knew I was like this, yet their desire to help would only end in tragedy...

I was ever closer to the tent. My target lay inside awaiting his 'Visitors'.

My 'contractor' told me of the Governor. His initiative during the nuclear storm of 2293 was almost monstrous. His 'army' of armoured thugs were sent to the remaining sealed Vaults in Mississippi... to clear them. Slaughter, Pure Slaughter, yet no-one could do anything about it. He claimed he was 'cleansing' the wasteland. He thought that those who hid away in the Vaults were cowards, who deserved no more right in 'our country' than filthy radroaches. That was all I knew of my target; and to be honest, all I wanted to know.

I slowly pulled back the tent door. Inside all I saw was a man... praying.

He spoke, ''I knew you were coming...''

I refused to talk, I had nothing to say to a monster. My first action was to ready my revolver. ''You can't do anything, you know. You can stop me, but my message will live on''.

Click. The weapon was loaded, I was ready. The 'contractor' insisted I alerted the guards to the crime scene, to leave a message. To which I thought, I may be a psycho, but I sure as hell aren't suicidal. I lay down a cherry bomb attached with a small fuse, of which I would light once the 'job' was done. I was also to show the Governor a photograph... of a large metal eagle. Click, the gun was still loaded.

''If you're going to do it, then now would be nice''. He remarked.

I raised the gun to the back of his head... and placed the photo in his solitary hands.

''Any Last Words?'' I whispered in his ear. The Governor paused... and raised his eyes from the photo.

''I've made a terrible mistake'' He whispered.

I pulled the trigger. The gun made a silent whisper of a gunshot...


End file.
